The Most Challenging Case
by Lady Athenea
Summary: Sherlock is bored after a couple of weeks without a real case. He thinks he is married to his work and that he doesn't need neither sex nor love to feel complete. However, one morning, after seeing his flat mate naked he might change his mind... English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy the story!
1. Chapter 1

(John's point of view)

I woke up to the sound of that bloody violin. It was three o'clock in the morning, but of course, Mr. Sherlock Holmes thought there was nothing wrong about it. I really loved his music, especially when I came back home exhausted after a long day at work, and he would play one of those musical pieces he himself had composed. He was an extremely talented musician – one would just wonder if that man did something wrong –, and the music he produced was beautifully unique. However, the last thing I wanted to hear at three o'clock in the morning – while I was having a very hot dream about a work colleague – was the fucking Sherlock Holmes playing that god dammed instrument.

"Sherlock! What the hell do you think you're doing, mate?!", I yelled at him, grabbing my pants and trousers from the floor and putting them on. I got out of the room and went downstairs, where I found my flat mate, facing the window while playing what it seemed to be a complex ballad.

"What do you think I _am_ doing, John?", asked he, his voice tinged with arrogance and disdain. "I see that your deduction techniques haven't got any better in the time we've spent together. I'm _playing_ the violin, in case you haven't noticed", he added with a scornful sigh, probably thinking that I was a complete and utter imbecile.

I still don't know how I managed to repress the need of punching him in the face, but I did _really _want to bruise those bloody arrogant cheekbones.

"I _know _that you are playing the violin, I just wanted to know _why _you're doing it at three o'clock in the morning!"

Sherlock paused for a second, his right hand grabbing the bow undecidedly, as if he didn't know what to do next – which was pretty weird, taking into account how self-assured my flat mate was. Then he look at me quietly and simply answered:

"Well, you know. I'm bored".

I looked at him with a withering gaze before I strode out of the living room. I wasn't in the mood to argue with him that night. Sherlock had been quite irritable for a couple of days, since we hadn't had a decent case in what seemed to be like ages for him. At first, he had been able to deal with his boredom making some experiments and shooting the wall, but not long afterwards he realised that wasn't enough. He had even found his secret supply and smoked two or three cigarettes. If Lestrade didn't phone soon, Sherlock would burn down the house just to "kill the time"… If I didn't kill _him_ first.

I went upstairs and locked me up in my bedroom. I had had enough of Sherlock Holmes for one day. I took off my clothes and crawled into the bed – I like to sleep _completely _naked. I closed my eyes and tried to become oblivious to that bloody melody downstairs. Fortunately for me the next day was my day off, so I would be able to rest and get some sleep. However, when you are living with Sherlock Holmes, you can't really take anything for granted…

_She lowered her head until our lips were just inches apart. I was already shirtless, my hands on her hips, whilst hers were stroking my back. I was about to kiss her when…_

"John!"22222

_I looked around us. Where did that voice come from? It wasn't Sarah's…_

"John!"

_No, that voice was clearly masculine. I have heard it somewhere before, but where? I couldn't remember…_

"John, wake up! We have a case!"

No fucking way.

"Come on, John!", he insisted, shaking my shoulders vehemently.

Bloody bastard.

I opened my eyes and found his face just a few inches away from mine. I looked at him for a few seconds, sleepy and scared at the same time. How the hell had he entered my room without the fucking key?! He followed my gaze to the door and answered my unasked question.

"Mrs. Hudson has a copy of the key".

"No, _you _has the copy".

"_No_, _she_ has", he insisted. I could see his patience was wearing thin. "I just stole it from her. She didn't even notice".

I clenched my fists before I rolled over and buried my head in the pillow. I didn't want to see his cocky face at that moment, it was getting on my nerves. I just wanted to come back to sleep and be able to have sex with Sarah… at least in a ridiculous dream.

"John, we have a…"

"I don't give a fuck! Just go away! I want to sleep a few more hours!"

He didn't seem to like that answer. In one swift elegant motion he pulled the covers off the bed, trying to make his point… And leaving me completely nude in front of him. I wasn't able to move. I just laid there motionless waiting for Sherlock to say something smart. We were both embarrassed. Even if we had lived together for more than a year and a half, he had never seen me naked. He usually strolled through the living room only covered with a thin sheet, and I had seen him shirtless several times, but I still didn't feel comfortable enough to go around naked in front of Sherlock. He stared at me for a couple of minutes before he was able to speak again. There was a mixture of curiosity and fear in his eyes, but I could also perceive another feeling that I couldn't figure out at that moment. A dangerous, disturbing feeling.

"What do you think you're doing, Sherlock?", I asked, grabbing the sheets and blankets and covering myself with them. "What the hell are you looking at?"

He remained silent for a few more seconds, as if he had forgotten how to speak. Then, suddenly, he looked the other way and licked innocently his lips. He acted as if he hadn't seen a naked human being in his entire life. Then it occurred to me that probably that was precisely the problem. Sherlock had told me once that he was married to his work and since I knew him I had never seen him interested in neither men nor women. Was it possible that Sherlock was still a virgin?

"It was just an experiment", he finally answered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II: A Sexual Day**

**(John's point of view)**

We got into the cab without even looking at each other. I kept my eyes fixed on my shaking hands, trying unsuccessfully to block any unpleasant memory that could cross my mind. We both remained silent on our way to the crime scene. If I didn't know him better, I would have thought that Sherlock was utterly embarrassed.

"What is the case about?", I finally inquired, in an attempt to break the ice. I just felt the need to distract my mind from dangerous thoughts. "You haven't told me yet".

He cleared his throat before answering my question. Now he seemed uncomfortable with the situation, as if he didn't want to talk about that topic in particular.

"A sex-shop owner has been murdered. The body was found by his assistant this morning". He didn't say anything else, his cold blue eyes fixed on my hands, as if he wanted to hold them or something. Bullshit! Sherlock Holmes holding somebody else's hand? When the hell froze over.

Then I became aware of what Sherlock has just told me. A sex-shop owner had been murdered. For God's sake! Did everything have to be related to sex that morning? My face turned red when I remembered Sherlock's eyes studying my naked body that morning. What I had seen in them while he was looking at me was astonishing and frightening at the same time. If Sherlock had been a normal person – instead of a high-functional sociopath and asexual fellow – then there'd be no doubt: there had been lust in his eyes. But then again, it was Sherlock, and he was never carried away by such a disgusting and human need as sex.

"He is a human being after all", I reminded myself. "He may have the same physical needs as any other person". I raised my eyes and looked at him for the first time since we got into the cab. He was holding his head high, looking straight ahead, as if he wanted to become completely oblivious to my presence in the cab. His clenched fists and rigid body were a tangible proof that something wrong was going on in his mind. Something he was trying to control, with no success. I wanted to comfort him, to ask how I could be of help. But then it occurred to me that perhaps Sherlock needed to go to his mental palace, and he could not concentrate with other people around talking to him. Yes, that was definitely the problem. Sherlock was trying to focus on the case and my hectic train of thought was distracting him. So I better stopped thinking.

We stepped into the sex-shop without saying any other word. Sargent Donovan looked at us with her characteristic disdain. "You don't belong in here, you dammed freaks", she tried to tell us with her eyes, without saying a word. Sherlock just ignored her, as if she were a tiny insignificant insect for him to crush.

"Good morning, guys", Lestrade greeted us with a smile upon his face. He seemed to be happy that morning. "Perhaps he got laid", I thought, and then I realised, again, that _everything_ was indeed related to sex that morning. Perhaps it was _me _the one who needed to get laid after all.

"Where is it?", demanded Sherlock, without further delay. I could tell he was growing impatient with the Detective Inspector. Lestrade looked at him a bit confused, not sure what he was talking about.

"Uhm, where is… what?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes exasperatedly. He normally lost his patience with the police department due to their extreme lack of intelligence and competence, but today it was different. He was about to lose his temper.

"Uhm, I don't know, Lestrade", he answered quietly, his voice tinged with acid sarcasm. "Why are we even here? The body, you fool! Where is the body?"

I've never seen him so nervous, so out of control, except perhaps when he needed to smoke a cigarette. Lestrade blinked his eyes twice, unsure of what to do next. Then he pointed with his finger to a spot at the other side of the shop. "There", he told Sherlock, before looking at me with questioning eyes.

"Why is he so fidgety this morning?", asked he, and he seemed really concerned about my flat mate.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I know not. I think I should go and interrogate the man who found the body". Lestrade nodded in agreement and pointed to the counter that a man in black was leaning on. He was tall and skinny, and extremely pale, as if the sun had never touched his skin. He was wearing blue glasses and had a few days beard that didn't suit him. His dark greased hair was cut in a Mohican style, which made him looked younger, but also uglier.

"Good morning", he greeted me, with a smile that he considered to be gorgeous, but that was indeed disgusting.

"Good morning, sir. My name is John Watson, my colleague and I are helping the police solve the case and I would like to ask you a few questions -"

"You can ask me _anything_ you want, sweetheart", he interrupted me, his lustful eyes fixed on my lips. I looked at him bewildered and angry at the same time. Was this guy trying to seduce me? Well, if that was his plan, he wasn't being very successful, first of all because I was _not_ gay, and secondly, because he was the most unattractive and disgusting dude I had ever met in my entire life.

"Well… Umm, I believe it was you who found the body…"

"Bloody hell, you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, _John_", he interrupted me again, his eyes never leaving my face, his lips smiling lustfully, as if he wanted to fuck me right in front of the entire police department! What the hell was wrong with that guy? And the way he had pronounced my name… as if he possessed me, as if he wanted to make me … _his_.

"Umm, sir, can we just focus on the case, please? What kind of relationship did you have with your employer? Do you happen to know if he had enemies, somebody who wanted to see him dead?"

"John, would you like to have dinner with me some time? Perhaps tonight, if you don't have anything to do after work, you could come to my place. We could talk about the case or… about _anything_ you like, and, if you want to, you could keep my bed _warm_…

"What makes you think that he doesn't have someone to keep his bed warm yet?", a baritone voice behind me replied to him. The assistant looked at Sherlock with dark hatred in his eyes. Was it possible that someone could be jealous of a person he had just met? Sherlock placed his hand protectively on my shoulder and challenged this weird bloke with his cold-ice eyes. He was much taller than him and I think the assistant felt somehow intimidated by his presence, for he apologised to us and dropped his menacing demeanour almost instantly.

I looked at Sherlock's hand on my shoulder intentionally, but he didn't remove it. I could see Anderson and Donovan from the corner of my eye laughing at us. Great, now they were going to talk. Sherlock had gotten jealous and had saved his little doctor from a potential predator. I sighted dreadfully. 'Is this day never gonna end?', I asked myself, through clenched teeth. Sherlock seemed to feel my tension, since he finally removed his hand and told me to leave that horrible place.

"Do you have umm… any ideas about the case?", I asked as soon as we got out of the shop. I didn't really care about the fucking case right now, but I needed to distract my mind and forget about all that… sexual tension. Sherlock stared at me intensely, as if he wanted to drink my soul with his enigmatic gelid eyes. Why had he said that to the assistant? Did he intend to save me from that strange fellow because he knew that I wasn't gay, and that I didn't feel comfortable with that kind of situations, or did he have other motivation? His voice, when addressing the assistant, had been cold as ice but sharp as a knife. His countenance had remain emotionless, but his hands were shaking furiously. If I didn't know him better, I would have sworn that Sherlock was jealous.

"Give me the piece of paper you have in your back pocket". I looked puzzled at him. "Now", he added, through clenched teeth.

"What piece of paper? What are you talking about?"

He looked at me angrily before taking a few steps towards me. He then put his hand in my pocket and took out a piece of paper with some numbers written on it.

"What is that? Who put it there? Was it you…?"

"Of course it wasn't me, John! As always, you see, but you do not observe", he had completely lost his patience. He seemed to be in a very dangerous frame of mind, as if he wanted to hit someone or something, and I happened to be the only person around. "It was the bloody assistant! He put this paper with his phone number in your pocket, and you didn't even notice, _John_! How can be your mind so slow, _John_?"

I didn't like the way he had pronounced my name. It was resentful and disdainful. Even though Sherlock was not the most affable person in the world, he had never talked to me with so much… hatred before. I couldn't stand it anymore. I needed that day to finish already.

"You know what, Sherlock? I'm up to here with your complaints. I'm going home. If you need anything of importance, just text me".

And without saying any other word, I turned around and headed to the main street to catch a cab.

4


End file.
